


That's How it Always Starts

by ainewrites



Series: life finds a way [1]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Abby and Erin never fought, F/F, I feel like I should apologize for this but I'm totally not going to, Jurassic Park AU, PEOPLE DIE HERE, Science, Velociraptors, and paleobiologist erin, because dinosaurs, bloody yes, but it's in the same vein as the movie deaths, but leaning more towards pg13 than r, hence the M rating, introducing: paleontologists abby and holtz, natural historian patty, often gruesomely, they just kind of went their seperate ways after college and don't talk much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainewrites/pseuds/ainewrites
Summary: It shouldn't be possible. Every single thing in Holtzmann is telling her that it shouldn't be possible. But here it is, out of her wildest, most inconceivable dreams, before her very eyes.Dinosaurs. Real, actual dinosaurs.Holyshit.-Jurassic Park AU





	1. l

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back, y'all. After almost exactly a year. I'm not dead, just eternally tired, and I also seem to be going through the dinosaur phase everyone seems to have at age nine at nineteen, which actually works pretty well because now I can geek out over science and actually understand it.
> 
> Jurassic Park is one of the great loves of my life. I thoroughly enjoy all the movies, and I will continue to enjoy the movies until they stop making them. I honestly think that they could film a Jurassic Park/World movie with only a bunch of people in those T-Rex suits and ketchup for fake blood and I would still be first in at the theater. 
> 
> So, I thought, why not smash together my love of watching dinosaurs eat people in movies with our favorite science dorks, and make the nerdiest AU I possibly can. 
> 
> Good? Good.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, and I'm happy to be back!

The thing inside the crate snarls, and the jolt of fear the sound sends through everyone witnessing is electric. It’s an instinctual sort of fear, the feeling of knowing that you are not predator, but prey, and the very thing that makes you want to run and hide is right in front of you. More than one hand tightens on the weapons at their disposal, but it’s uncomfortable to know that only one of the many is armed with lethal force, the dozens of others clutching tasers at their side. The weapons hurt, yes, but in a matter of life and death, they do nothing.

The crate shakes as the crane slowly lowers, the animal, if it can even be called that, growling inside. Someone gets a bit to close and the growl turns to a chattering bark, the man stumbling backwards, whitening in fear. Someone else takes his place, climbing up the short latter on the side to stand on top of the cage.

“Raise the gate!”

The many shuffle forward, tasers raised and ready. The man on top of the cage hesitates for one, long second before pulling the gate, the only thing keeping the creature inside, open.

And that’s when everything goes wrong. The creature inside jolts, barking again, and the entire crate shifts, sliding sideways, and the man falls. He hits the ground hard enough to stun him, and everyone rushes forward.

But not fast enough.

There was a small gap, left by the shifting of the cage, and the man landed with one leg inside the gap. It took less than a heartbeat for that leg to be grabbed.

He’s screaming, the clawing at anything, grabbing at the side of the grate, fingers latching desperately onto a ladder rung. The smell of urine fills the air, quickly overwhelmed with the iron tang of blood.

Men rush forward, and tasers are jammed in the slates of the crate. The creature inside shrieks, but she’s got her prey almost inside now, and she’s not giving up. Fresh meat is worth a little pain. Even with the violent spark and shock of the tasers, the man can barely hang on.

The one in charge rushes forward, wrapping her arms around the man’s torso just in time for him to let go of the ladder rung. She braces a foot against a wall and hangs on, but she knows that she’s not match for the creature’s strength.

“Shoot her!”

The man is slipping through her grip, and the creature inside is no longer screeching, her sole focus on the meal within her sights, caught up in her grasp.

“Shoot her!”

The man’s arm slips through the woman’s grasp, and he’s gone. He screams, and then the crate slides back into place.

His screams continue for several long, long seconds.

Then all is silent.

➹ TWO WEEKS LATER ➹

You live a strange life when your idea of a very excellent day is finding the bones of some long-dead creature, but hey, Holtzmann acknowledges it and embraces it.

Abby is over the moon with the discovery, perhaps even more so than Holtzmann. She’s talking excitedly as she digs through the cabinets of the camper, full of the bubbling energy only a find can bring. Holtzmann hops up onto the counter, swiping a can of chips from the table as she does so.

“A velociraptor, Holtz!” Abby says, beaming. “A complete one, too! And it’s big, the biggest one we’ve found yet. Nine feet long, probably at least six feet tall.”

Holtz crunches a chip, the crumbs scattering and sticking to her sweaty legs. The stale air of the camper is a little claustrophobic, yes, but they’ve got four table fans going and a box fan propped in an open window, and it’s mercifully a few degrees cooler than the Montana desert outside.

“Is that why you terrified the paleobotanist’s kid?” Holtz asks, swinging her legs, and Abby rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t terrify him.”

“Doesn’t bother to go for your jugular, like a lion. No, he slashes you across the belly, and you are alive when they start to eat you,” Holtzmann mimics the earlier conversation, grinning, and Abby pauses, glass of water in one hand, frowning.

“I didn’t mean to scare him. Don’t kids like dinosaurs?”

“Kids like dinosaurs,” Holtz confirms, “just maybe not when someone is graphically describing how one would eat them.”

“Kids are weak,” Abby mumbles, and Holtzmann shrugs, popping another chip in her mouth. She’s about to make some comment on Abby’s particular brand of reasoning, but the low _whop, whop, whop_ of a helicopter interrupts her. Abby frowns, water glass halfway to her mouth, exchanging a puzzled glance with Holtzmann. Typically, anyone who’s rich enough to afford a helicopter ride into Buttcrack of Nowhere, Montana instead of taking the hour and a half drive across the desert gives them a little bit of forewarning before the visit.

Holtz hops off the counter, tucking her can of chips under an arm for safekeeping. She peeks out the window, but can only see the silver helicopter, stirring up dust with its rotating blades, the logo on the side hazy and indistinct. She squints, trying to make it out, but doesn’t get a chance to before the door bangs open, making both her and Abby jump about a foot in the air.

In the doorway of the kitchen camper is a man. Holtzmann’s first thought is that he must be extremely overheated, because he’s dressed in a tweed suitcoat over a vest, over a button up shirt. He steps over the threshold, ignoring Abby’s pointed “and who are _you_?”

He surveys the camper with a wrinkled nose, his look of distance lingering on Holtzmann for a second longer than necessary. Holtzmann figures it probably has something to do with her paint-splattered overalls. Or her screw-u necklace, clearly visible. Or her wild tangle of blonde hair. Or the can of chips she’s still crunching on. Honestly, it’s probably just Holtz herself; people who look like that tend not to like her very much, not that Holtz cares one bit.

“I am looking for Doctors Yates and Holtzmann,” the man says, brushing a microscopic piece of dust off his coat. Holtzmann is rather tempted to reach out and “accidently” brush her crumb covered fingers over the same spot but doesn’t give in to the urge.

“And who’s looking?” Abby asks, clearly more than a little bit irked at the man barging in uninvited.

“My name is Phil Hudson,” the man says, looking Abby up and down, taking in her dust-covered clothes and her messy hair. “Representative of InGen. I was informed that Dr. Yates and Dr. Holtzmann were here.”

InGen. The name rings a bell in the back of Holtz’s mind, but she can’t place it.

“Well, you’ve found them,” Abby says, offering a hand to shake, professional habits winning out over her irritation. “Dr. Abigail Yates. That over there is my colleague, Dr. Jillian Holtzmann.”

Holtzmann gives a two-finger salute, which makes Phil Hudson look even more displeased than he already does.

“Well,” he finally says, giving Abby’s hand a quick shake. “I am here to make an offer.”

“What sort of offer?” Abby asks. Holtz pops another chip into her mouth, savoring the way Phil grits his teeth in clear irritation.

“InGen’s lawyers have informed me you are to be invited. They said your areas of expertise will be vital in certifying the park. We will pay for all your transportation as well as lodging and meals.”

“Certifying what park?” Holtz asks, shoving about four chips into her mouth at once. Phil looks rather like he smells something rotten under his nose.

“We would require you to stay for about a week, plus the travel days.”

“We can’t,” Abby says immedietely, and Holtzmann nods.

“We just found the bones of a rather interesting fellow,” she says, hopping back up onto the counter. “We can’t leave him here alone. He might get up and walk away.  And let me tell you, a velociraptor this size wandering around? _Chaos_.”

Cleary not apricating her joke, Phil reaches into his pocket and pulls out what appears to be a contract. “We are prepared to fund your operation.”

This causes the two women to pause. Funds are few and far in between, especially for such a small dig. They’ll be lucky if they last another two months, this date maybe extended with the fossil found this morning. But, after a minute, Abby shakes her head. While they know funding is extremely needed, sometimes claims of funding are a couple of pieces of new equipment and enough money for food for a month.

But then, Phil drops the bombshell. “We are prepared to fully fund you for the next two years.”

Abby lets out a shocked bark of laughter, and Holtz chokes on her chip. She hacks on the sharp crumb lodged in her throat, and Abby pounds on her back, eyes wide.

“We’ll do it!”

Holtzmann, finally clearing the shard of pringle from her throat, nods vigorously. She raises her tub of chips in mock celebration, before popping another into her mouth.

Phil finally breaks. “How are you eating now?” He snaps, and Holtzmann does a small internal fist pump of victory.

“You try saying no to these salty parabolas,” she says, grinning. “Also, you haven’t actually told us what we’re agreeing to do yet.”

There’s something strangely knowing about Phil’s smile. 

➹

It had finally clicked in Holtzmann’s brain somewhere over the southern United States. InGen, also known as the most well-known and respected bioengineering company in the world. Phil Hudson, the heir, inheriting the business from his late father. This revelation had led to some geeking out on Holtz’s part, and some snippy comments on Phil’s, making it very clear he had no interest in talking science with her.

So, with the flight barely started and South America still a few hours away, Holtzmann begins searching for stuff to do. Abby’d conked out almost the minute the plane had taken off, her dislike of flying combined with her tendency towards air and motion sickness had led her to take some over the counter medication that had utterly knocked her out. She’s currently fast asleep, curled in one of the leather chairs, glasses sliding down her nose and an unopened book in her lap.

Mildly disappointing, considering Phil was not being entertaining and she hadn’t had Abby’s foresight and packed a book. But, as she quickly figures out, private planes come stocked with many, many entertaining things. For a while, she pretends to be a snotty rich lady, flipping through the celebrity magazines left in stacks around the plane, sipping champagne that was decidedly not bought for $7 at the local grocery store (there’s a lot of looking down her nose and sniffing loudly, flipping the magazine pages as loudly and dramatically as possible). But eventually that gets boring, and she switches to eating individual packets of crunchy chocolate chip cookies and watching movies on the iPad she found in a drawer.

By the time the plane lands, she’s both riding a sugar high and mildly tipsy, a combination that’s sure to leave her crashing in a few hours. She’s bouncing as she rouses a bleary, yawning Abby, and flings herself down the stairs leading from the airplane, jumping the last five steps. She lands on South American ground, in a different country for the first time in her life.

It rather feels like being punched in the face with a wall of humidity.

Abby grumbles somewhere behind Holtzmann, and Phil wanders off with his cellphone pressed to his ear, leaving Abby and Holtz to wrangle the luggage. They drag it over to a little bench beside a road leading away from the runway and collapse. Abby yawns and stretches, her back popping, and then rolls her neck to work out of the stiffness.

“Are you good for a sec?” she asks. “I really, really need to pee.”

Holtzmann nods an affirmation. Abby wanders off, leaving Holtzmann to sit by the side of the road and wait. She reclines against the bench, surveying the private airport. There’s a second plane next to the one she and Abby just landed on, identical down to the InGen logo on the side, and standing a little way away from the plane, next to a pile of luggage, is a woman.

There’s something distinctly familiar about her, but Holtz can’t quite place her finger on what it is. She’s average enough in appearance, dressed in a tweed business suit and nude heels, with straight auburn hair that grows a little bit past her shoulders. She’s clearly a business woman, like Phil, but while Phil constantly looks like he smells something bad, this woman just looks mildly anxious and kind of tired. She’s got her phone out and is staring down at it, concentrating on whatever she’s doing enough that she doesn’t notice Holtzmann’s approach.

“Come here often?”

“Oh my god!” The woman jumps about a foot in the air, spinning around to face Holtz with wide eyes. She clutches at her chest, clearly surprised at Holtz’s rapid approach. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Jillian Holtzmann,” she says, reaching out to give the woman’s hand a shake. “Virgo, avid skier, gluten-full, and one hundred percent jazzed to meet you.”

The woman blinks. “Jillian Holtzmann…?”

“And you are?” Holtz asks, but the woman doesn’t get a chance to answer, because Abby is back and a grin is splitting her face.

“Erin!”

And Holtz realizes why she recognizes the woman. She’s a common person in the pictures that line Abby’s walls, the two women admittedly a bit younger in the photos. Erin Gilbert, Abby’s best and oldest friend.

They hug, Erin’s smile equally big. They pull apart, and both of them are grinning. And then Abby punches Erin.

“Ow! Abby!” Erin rubs her arm, glaring. “What was that for?”

“Three years, Erin! I haven’t seen you in three years!”

“I’ve been busy!” While her tone is indigent, her expression is warm. “It’s good to see you, Abby.”

Abby softens, hugging Erin again. “Of course it is, asshole. I’m a delight.”

Holtzmann, clearly having been forgotten for the time being, leans against the pile of luggage. It’s strange, how different Erin looks compared to the photo Holtzmann passes by every day in the camper. In Abby’s photo, they’re both younger, maybe nineteen, in university hoodies with their arms around each other, both with maybe the most unfortunate hair styles known to man. Now, Abby’s sun-tanned and freckled, dark hair in a messy bun, and Erin’s in an immaculate skirt suit with an undeniable air of professor about her.

Still, there’s clearly a history between them, a familiarity that comes from years of knowing that person, and of the sort of trust that only comes from the deepest of friendships. The two are clearly over the moon to see each other, both chattering at a mile a minute, clearly trying to fit three year’s worth of events into about two minutes. Holtzmann watches, amused, as the two are swept instantly into the conversation, hands waving to prove each of their points.

The conversation is interrupted by Phil, returning with two women on his either side.

“This is Jennifer Lynch, InGen’s top lawyer,” he says, introducing the woman in his right first. She doesn’t smile, just nods once. “and this is Dr. Patricia Tolan.”

The woman on his left smiles, reaching out to shake their hands enthusiastically. “Call me Patty.”

Holtzmann shakes her hand, liking her instantly. Her smile is huge and warm, and her handshake firm.

Phil doesn’t give them any chance to talk, though. He’s unsmiling as he impatiently waits for the rest of them to gather their luggage, rolling his eyes and sighing loudly when it takes longer than he might like.

“The helicopter is waiting, ladies,” he says, “and we’re already running late.”

“Still haven’t told us where we’re going,” Holtz reminds him, but he either doesn’t hear her or pretends his doesn’t.

Holtz figures it’s probably the latter.

➹

The twenty-minute ride in the helicopter is a tight one. Holtzmann ends up squished between the door and Abby, Erin on Abby’s other side. Patty, Jennifer Lynch and Phil are sitting directly across from them. The lawyer is sorting through piles of paper on her lap, checking stuff off with a pen as she goes. She shows no interest in starting a conversation, and it’s Patty that eventually breaks the silence.

“So,” she says, “You two dig up dinosaurs?”

“We try to!” Holtzmann says cheerfully. “But sometimes those suckers get themselves good and hidden and it takes a bit more effort than we would like.”

Patty grins. “I considered being a paleontologist for a while, until I learned how much of a dirty job it is. Y’all really put yourselves out in the middle of nowhere.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a professor of natural history,” Patty answers.

Erin lights up. “You’re a professor?” She leans over the seat to one more shake Patty’s hand. “I’m Dr. Erin Gilbert, a professor of paleobiology at Colombia.”

“I’m at NYU!” Patty exclaims. “I knew I recognized you! I saw you at the benefit dinner at the Museum of Natural History a few months ago!”

“Yes!”

Phil clears his throat, loudly, and everyone turns to look at him.

“Ms. Lynch has insisted you all be brought here today,” he says, and the lawyer looks up at the mention of her name. “According to the company, we should bring in professionals to ensure the park’s safety.”

“Still haven’t told us what we’re seeing,” Abby says under her breath, but Phil hears and shoots her a glare.

“This was not my idea, however, Ms. Lynch insisted that you ladies were the most qualified in your fields.”

He says it in a way that makes it seem like the words taste sour in his mouth, which causes both pride and anger to rise in Holtzmann’s chest. Clearly, it invokes more anger than pride in Abby, who clenches her jaw, eyes narrowing.

“There was an…incident…involving a park employee,” Jennifer says, sliding a pair of thin-framed reading glasses off her nose. “And InGen thought it best to bring in professionals within the field to ensure the safety of future guests.”

“But what exactly are you bringing us to see?” Abby asks, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. “We’ve asked _multiple times_ , and yet you still have not told us why the hell you are dragging us out into the middle of the ocean!”

“You’ll see soon enough,” is the utterly unsatisfying answer. “We’ll be landing shortly.”

And out of the ocean appears an island. Holtzmann squishes her nose against the window, taking in the lapping blue waves and the deep green hills, the helicopter navigating through a valley.

“The decent will need to be fast because of the winds,” Phil says, clipping his seatbelt. “So, it might be a bit jarring.”

And right on cue, the entire helicopter jolts. Abby turns white and sinks her nails into Holtzmann’s arm, digging little grooves into Holtz’s flesh. She winces, glad her friend doesn’t have longer nails. Around her, people click their seatbelts together, and Holtzmann fumbles for hers…and comes up with two of the same kind. She doesn’t let it phase her, just ties it in a knot. Besides, if they’re really going to come crashing down in a helicopter from several hundred feet in the air, they’re going to die anyways, seatbelt or no seatbelt.

Erin, on the other hand, frowns. “That doesn’t look safe.” She almost looks like she wants to climb over and force Holtzmann to someone find a proper seatbelt, but the helicopter jolts again, and she stays put. Abby’s cutting off the circulation in Holtzmann’s arm, grip getting tighter with every bounce. Even Jennifer’s looking slightly rattled, but Phil just sits calmly.

Finally, the helicopter bumps against the ground, and a man dressed in orange runs around and slides open the door. Erin climbs out first, and then Abby, and Holtzmann watches her run off into the bushes. She hears her vomit, and when Abby comes back a couple of seconds later, she’s still pale but her cheeks are flushed.

Holtz pats her arm. The marks of Abby’s fingernails on her arm are turning from an angry red to a bruised purple.

There are two jeeps waiting for them at the end of the helicopter pad, and an impatient Phil bundles them into the cars. Patty is the unfortunate person who ends up in the car with him and Jennifer, and when she catches Holtz’s eye, she makes a face.

Holtzmann gives her a thumbs up, and then climbs into the back of the jeep next to Erin, Abby claiming shotgun. Holtzmann doesn’t bother clipping her seatbelt and reclines in the seat, propping her boots up on the center console and taking in the woman next to her. Erin is sitting in a way that Holtzmann can only describe as _primly_ , back straight and hands clasped in her lap.

“Tell me,” Holtzmann says, grinning. “Where did you get the world’s tiniest bow tie?”

If she knew Erin better, she’d reach out and flick the tiny tie at the hollow of her throat, but Erin’s still pretty much a stranger, despite Holtz feeling like she knows her with all the stories Abby’s told of their childhood and college years together. Plus, Erin is pretty in the uptight, professor-ish sort of way, and while Holtz fully intends to flirt her ass off, that might be moving it a bit too quickly.

Erin looks mildly surprised. “It, uh, came with the shirt.”

Holtz sweeps her gaze over Erin’s outfit, settling on her feet.

“What’s it like to walk around in those shoes all day?”

Erin involuntarily glances down at her nude heels, which seem very unsuited for this excursion. “It’s not fun.”

The jeep bounces, leaving the hard-packed gravel of the road in favor of cutting across large, grassy fields. In the front seat, Abby, still not fully over the helicopter, groans softly. Holtzmann leans forward to pass her one of the water bottles in the backseat.

“If you barf, I am no longer sharing a car with you.”

Abby swipes the water bottle with a glare. “Fuck you, Holtz.”

Holtz cackles, leaning back in her seat.

The jeep slows down, then stops, and Holtzmann, still giggling, turns to glance out the window. She chokes, the laugh dying. Unable to believe her eyes, she climbs up on her seat, pulling herself out the open roof of the car. She hears Erin’s sudden, sharp inhale, and knows she’s not imaging things.

Reaching back into the car, not able to tear her eyes from the sight in front of her, she whacks the back of Abby’s head. Abby, mid-drink, sloshes water down the front of her shirt.

“Ow! What the hell, Holtzmann-“

Abby’s voice is cut off equally quickly, and Holtzmann doesn’t wait for the reaction. She vaults up and out of the roof of the car, landing hard enough on the grass that a jolt goes up her legs. But she’s moving, stumbling forward, her eyes glued to the sight in front of her. Behind her, a car door slams, and Abby’s beside her, and Holtzmann thinks she may be crying.

It shouldn't be possible. Every single thing in Holtzmann is telling her that it shouldn't be possible. But here it is, out of her wildest, most inconceivable dreams, before her very eyes.

A dinosaur. A real, actual dinosaur.

Holy  _shit_.

“Brachiosaurus!” Abby gasps, and Holtzmann nods, head tilting back to take in the dinosaur. It bellows, stretching up onto hind legs to tear at the leaves at the top of tree. It drops back down, shaking the ground with it’s weight, and Holtzmann thinks she may be crying now, too.

This is real.

This is undeniably real, a dinosaur standing in front of her.

Abby stumbles, Holtzmann barely able to catch her before she falls. Her friend sits down hard, gasping.

“It can’t be…it can’t be possible. It’s not…it can’t be!”

Holtzmann has never known Abby to be at a loss for words, but here they are, and the impossible is right in front of them.

A door slams, and Phil walks up to them, a smug, self-satisfied smile on his face.

“Dr. Yates, Dr. Holtzmann, you were asking about my project. Here it is.” He gestures to the dinosaur. “A park years in the making. My father’s greatest dream brought to life.”

Abby makes a small sound in the back of her throat, and Holtzmann feels like her knees are about to give out.

Phil nods, his smile growing.  

“Welcome, ladies, to Jurassic Park.”

 

 


	2. II

The ride to the lodge is silent. Even Holtz’s brain is pretty quiet, which is unusual, and she’s not sure if it’s from her inevitable crash after all the sugar she consumed on the plane, or if the fact of seeing an actual fucking dinosaur just short-circuited something in her head.

Maybe it’s both.

It’s probably both.

The others are equally silent as they file their way through the lodge, Phil leading the way from the entrance hall towards a small theater. They file in, taking a seat in the dark room, Phil and Jennifer right at the front. Phil twists around to look at the four women sitting behind him.

“You must be wondering how we did this,” he says, pride evident in his voice. “As will most people coming to the park. We set up this video to show it in a way even non-scientists can understand.”

He waves at someone unseen, and the screen flickers to life. An animated character who introduces himself as Mr. DNA pops up, and Holtzmann smirks. She crosses her arms and leans back, propping her legs up onto the chair in front of her.

The video that plays is clearly meant for children, simple enough to keep them entertained while informative enough that Holtz now has a basic idea of how a supposedly impossible thing was achieved. It seems like some sort of miracle, wielded not by a god but by science, and she rather feels like she should be awed in its presence.

And she does, she really does…but why is there a stirring of _this isn’t right_ in her stomach?  Both Abby and Patty, sitting on either side of her have their eyebrows furrowed and they watch the screen, both clearly thinking, and Erin…when Holtzmann leans forward to try and get a glance at Erin might be feeling, she can see that the paleobiologist is frowning.

Mr. DNA up on the movie screen is finishing up, and stops with an animated smile and a “hold tight!”, and all the seats jolt. Holtzmann, not paying attention to what the movie had been saying, jumps about a foot in the air, grabbing at Abby’s arm to steady herself.

The seats slowly slide to the left, the wall opening up to allow them through. And, unfolding in front of them, is a lab. Inside, scientists in lab coats rush around busily, and Phil gets up from his seat.

“This will not be included in the guest’s tour, but Ms. Lynch has insisted visitation of the lab is necessary for you to confirm the safety of the facilities.” He gestures at them until they all slowly get up, and follow him down the stairs into the laboratory.

Holtzmann jumps down the last two steps, landing with a thud that earns her a glare, and as soon as her feet hit the stark white floor her attention is drawn to the center of the room. It’s a large round table, and on the table is a pile of sticks and grasses, a makeshift nest clearly build by human hands.

But in that nest are eggs. Maybe a dozen or so, all larger than Holtz’s hand, oblong and off-white. Beside her, Abby inhales sharply, almost vibrating with the sort of uncontained excitement that comes seconds before a great discovery. Before a breakthrough.

And this, this is a breakthrough of amazing proportions, and they get to be one of the first people who witness it.

One of the eggs wobbles. Holtzmann throws herself forward, feet moving almost without her knowing. She hits the ground hard, her knees screaming, but she’s eye level with the trembling egg, miniscule cracks radiating outwards.

“I insist on being here for the birth of all of the new animals,” Phil says, leaning over the nest. “They imprint on the first being they come in contact with.”

“Like ducks,” Abby says, crouching down beside Holtz.

“Like ducks,” Phil confirms, and there’s an audible crack, and bits of the egg falls away, revealing a tiny snout.

“Come on, little guy,” Holtz whispers, and another piece of egg falls away, and the head of a tiny, tiny baby dinosaur pops out, making sounds Holtz can only describe as cheeping.

She just about melts. Abby makes a little trembly gasp nose, hands hovering just above the table, and Holtz can tell she so badly wants to touch it, to assure herself that it’s real, that this tiny creature is alive in front of them.

“Hey, little guy,” Holtz says softly, and the dinosaur turns, covered in red goop and blinking amber eyes that seem too large for its face. It cheeps again, and it’s kind of cute in a gross sort of way, and Holtz isn’t sure why she feels like crying only knows that she does. She laughs once, hard and disbelieving.

“If you insist on imprinting on the animals,” Erin says from somewhere behind Holtz and Abby, “then what are you going to do about the animals that hatch in the park?”

Holtz twists, and finds both Erin and Patty to be frowning, eyebrows furrowed in something closer to concern than awe.

Phil shakes his head. “It’s not possible for there to be any hatching outside these laboratories.”

“How do you know that?” It’s Patty that speaks up this time. “Accidents happen. Animals have two goals; to survive and to continue on their bloodline. Dinosaurs can’t be any different.”

“All the dinosaurs are female,” Jennifer Lynch answers. She’s got her glasses on again, and combined with her hair in the tight bun, she looks like an old-timey school teacher about to scold you. “It was one of the required conditions. We decided on female to try and reduce any territory despites that would come with male animals.”

“But accidents happen,” Patty repeats. “Y’all are so confident in your science, sure, but the science is done by humans and humans make mistakes.”

“Not these ones.”

Abby and Holtz make eye contact. In the nest, the tiny dinosaur fights its way out of the egg, and there’s that strange feeling of wrongness overtaking the awe in Holtzmann’s stomach once again. She’s a scientist to the core, understands the draw of discovery, but the more Patty talks, the more there’s something that feels not _right_.

“All the embryos start out as female, anyways,” Phil says. “It’s simple enough to deny them the chemical that would make them male.”

Patty shakes her head. “Y’all seem so sure. But life…” her smile holds no amusement, only a grim, certain sort of knowing. “Well, life finds a way.”

Life finds a way.

Holtzmann stares down at the hatchling, now free from the eggshell and kicking around in the nest, trying out shaky, trembling legs. For the first time, she notices the predatory features, the sharp teeth and the slitted pupils of the eyes.

“What kind of dinosaur is this?” Abby asks, and Holtz knows she has just noticed the exact same thing.

Phil smiles. “That, doctors, is a velociraptor.”

It’s funny how it takes only the one word for Holtz’s blood to run cold. The hatchling cheeps again, crying out for food, but the sound is no longer endearing. Instead, it’s a call for blood.

➹

Apparently, they get to go on a tour of the actual park next, but Phil insists on lunch first. Holtzmann sits between Jennifer and Abby at the table, and she’s already plowed through most of the bread that had been set before them. She’s so hungry, and she hasn’t eaten anything since the cookies on the plane.

A waiter comes, placing a bowl of soup down in front of everyone before vanishing behind the wall of screens on the wall. Screens that for the last twenty minutes have been blaring at top volume declaring the various attractions the park will offer. Currently, it boasts of a “Jungle River Cruise”, playing a slideshow of pictures. Holtz pokes a spoon into her soup, stirring around the broth and the few slices of carrot. Beside her, Abby grumbles about the wonton to broth ratio, and her own poking of her meal decidedly more irritated. 

“Most of our attractions will be up and running in a matter of weeks,” Phil says, ignoring the waiter who places the meal in front of him. “This park has been in the works for years, and in my father’s brain for decades. But it is only now that science has progressed enough to allow us to bring his dream to a reality.”

Holtzmann pauses. “Wait…this idea isn’t your own?”

Phil levels his gaze on her. “It is my father’s idea, built off of years of supposedly impossible dreams. I am simply the one building it to fruition.”

Patty, across the table, laughs, once and hard. Every head turns to face her.

“See, that’s your problem,” Patty says, leaning forward on the table. “It’s not your science, not your dream, you’re interested in the money. Say, Ms. Lawyer over there…what do you think?”

Jennifer Lynch folds her hands neatly in front of her. “I believe that this park, should you four clear it, will be a very large success and bring in a significant amount of revenue. Why, we could charge a thousand dollars a day, and people would come.”

“And that money would lead to more scientific discoveries. We have perhaps eight species on this island right now, plus another half dozen we are currently trying to hatch and raise. Can you imagine what a thousand dollars a day would bring?” Phil asks, taking a small bite of bread.

“Ignoring the rest of that,” Abby says, a quiet fire behind her voice. “Ignoring the rapidly rising ethical dilemmas that you seem to be waving in front of my eyes, have you ever considered that most people can’t afford to spend a thousand dollars a day, I’m assuming per person, on a theme park?”

“This is not a theme park, Ms-“

“ _Doctor_ ,” Abby says fiercely. “And it is. A theme park, a nature park, whatever you want to call it. But to charge that much money would mean so many people who deserve to see this, who deserve to see childhood dreams come true as much as you or your father, would not be able to come.”

Jennifer Lynch frowns. “That is not our problem, Ms. Yates. And besides, it’s just a matter of saving enough money, setting aside a little a month to go on this vacation.”

“I _swear to god_ ,” Abby snaps, and she’s in the process of shoving herself out of her seat to stand and yell at them, but Erin lays a hand on her arm.

“Look,” Erin says, coaxing a glaring Abby back into her seat. “I have studied both paleozoology and paleobiochemistry, my life’s work is dedicated to understanding these creatures work in the best way we can. But it has also taught me that nature is all-powerful. We try to pretend we are the all-powerful ones, but we’re not, and nature always wins out.”

Patty nods. “You invited us here because you wanted our opinion. And my opinion at the moment is that this is a dangerous, hare-brained idea, and can I say that I am not surprised _in the least_ that a white man was the one who came up with it.”

Phil, a sour expression on his face, turns to Holtz. “I haven’t heard your opinion yet, Ms. Holtzmann. Please, enlighten us.” His voice drips with sarcasm.

Holtz leans back in her seat. “I think that this from the perspective of discovery this is an amazing one.”

Phil smiles, gesturing at Holtz as if she proves his point, but she holds up a finger.

“But I also think that you’re playing god.” She shrugs, looping one of her arms over the back of Abby’s seat. “And while I think playing god is fun and all, up to the forearms in the sandbox of life and creation, this…” She wiggles her fingers to emphasis her point. “You’re making animals that died out long ago. That nature, not humans, chose for extinction. And you’re shaking your head and saying that you don’t care.”

Phil’s expression turns sour again.

Holtzmann shrugs. Her feelings are conflicted and messy, and either way, she feels like she’s making a mistake. On one hand, there’s the childlike awe of seeing the things she has studied for years come to life before her eyes, an honor many people will never get to experience. They are playing god, a contest against Mother Nature, and they have arguably won, creatures of history alive once again. It’s a scientific breakthrough of massive proportions, one that will go down in history. But at the same time, she keeps remembering the intelligent, predatory eyes of the baby velociraptor. There’s something deeply, deeply unsettling about the tiny creature, and there’s a feeling in the pit of her stomach that tells her that something is very wrong.

“And, like Patty said…life finds a way, and you think you’re in charge but you’re not. You can never truly be in charge of something like this. I predict a poof.”

“A…poof?”

“Poof,” Holtz says, blowing out her cheeks and mimicking an explosion between her hands.

Phil laughs humorlessly. “So, you’re telling me the only one on my side is the soul-sucking lawyer?”

Jennifer raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.

➹

After lunch, they’re shuffled from the main building and down a road through the jungle, Phil leading the way and Jennifer bringing up the rear. Holtz ends up beside Erin, who’s changed from her heels and skirt suit into hiking boots and shorts, which seems a much more sensible choice to Holtz.

“How long have you known Abby?”

Erin’s question takes Holtz by surprise, and it takes her a minute to figure it out. She doesn’t really keep track of dates, and especially out in the digs. Her days are just cycles of hot sand and backbreaking work combined with stolen hours of sleep, and she can’t remember the last time she looked at a calendar. But she has an estimate.

“About five years? Maybe six?” She shrugs, batting away a fly that’s been buzzing around her for the last few minutes. “We met right after we graduated…I was twenty, and she was twenty-six, so yeah…about five years.”

Erin’s eyebrows raise. “You graduated with a PhD at twenty?”

Holtz grins, spinning around so she’s facing Erin. “Genius level IQ, baby!” She says dramatically, promptly almost falling over as the heel of her boot catches against a root. “I started taking college classes when I was fourteen.”

“That’s impressive,” Erin says, and there’s something about how impressed she sounds that makes Holtz want to keep impressing her, and she’s racking her brain trying to figure out what else to say to her that would impress her and not just weird her out when the group reaches an enclosure.

The enclosure walls aren’t tall, perhaps ten feet, but only the very tops of trees can be seen through the electric fencing at the top, hinting that it’s been built into the ground. Against one wall is a watchtower where three uniformed guards wait, sharp-eyed and holding long handled tasers.

And waiting at the bottom of the ramp that leads up to the walkway around the enclosure is a woman. She’s tall, with a head full of wild, graying brown curls barely contained by a bandana, and a rifle slung across her back. She doesn’t smile when they approach, only holds out a hand to shake.

“This is our game warden,” Phil says. “Rebecca Gorin.”

“ _Dr_. Rebecca Gorin,” the woman corrects sharply, and Holtzmann gets the feeling that she feels nothing but disgust for the man standing in front of her.

Needless to say, Holtz likes her immedietely, and shakes her hand with great enthusiasm. She’s rewarded with a quirked eyebrow and a tiny, barely there smile, and she has to resist a victory fist pump.

Somewhere in the background there’s the whir of machinery, and the low moo of a cow. Everyone turns to watch as a crane lifts a black, long-horned cow strapped into a sling up off the ground. The cow moos again in alarm, the crane beeping as it lifts the cow over the side of the electric fence.

“What…what are they doing?” Abby asks, her voice sounding strangely tight.

“It’s feeding time,” Dr. Gorin says simply, and Holtz and Abby make eye contact. Without speaking they’re both flinging themselves forward, rushing up the ramp to peer into the shadows of the enclosure. The cow is being slowly lowered, still clearly very alarmed.

“What’s in here?” Abby asks, but she doesn’t get an answer. There’s the thud of the cow hitting the unseen dirt floor, and there’s a second of silence.

And then, something shrieks, and all the tree tops rustle and rattle, and the iron smell of blood and fresh meat fills the air, wild snarls and high chattering calls echoing around the cement walls. Abby backs away, disgust and horror waring on her face, but Holtz can’t tear herself away.

She didn’t know a cow could scream.

Erin appears beside her, something akin to fear on her face. “Velociraptors,” she says, and Dr. Gorin’s grim nod is the confirmation none of them needed.

“They should all be put down,” she says, crossing her arms. “I’ve already lost one of my men to them, and I know that I’m going to lose more.”

The crane beeps, rising up from the cage, and the tatters of the straps formally holding the cow reappears, newly stained brown from fresh blood.

“Why the crane?” Patty asks, and Dr. Gorin opens her mouth to answer, but Phil talks over her.

“They used to start attacking the cage walls when they saw the feeder coming,” he says with a grim sort of delight. “This is safer.”

“Aren’t the walls electrified?”

“They are,” Dr. Gorin confirms. “But they always attacked in a different place. Every time. They were testing the strength, testing for weakness.”

“They’re intelligent,” Patty says. “They remembered.”

“They remembered.”

Clearly sensing the mounting amount of unease within the four women, Phil hurries forward. “We still have a tour of the park planned,” he says, herding them away from the enclosure and back on the path towards the main lodge. “That takes about an hour, so we should get going if you want to be back before dark.”

They let themselves be reluctantly herded away, but as they are, Holtz looks back. The crane is lowering the tatters of the cow’s harness. It’s been ripped to shreds, torn apart in clear haste to get to the animal formally held inside it.

It’s vicious, it’s violent, and Holtz shivers, goosebumps rising on her arms despite the warm air.

Dinosaurs brought back to life should be the stuff of her childhood dreams, so why does it feel like a rapidly developing nightmare?

➹

In the basement of the lodge, a man sits at a messy desk in front of a computer. One eye is on the work he’s pretending to do, the other on the clock above the stairs.

In less than four hours, he will be a multimillionaire.

“Rowan, you deserve this,” he says to himself, his voice echoing in the empty room. “You have been walked over your whole life.”

His computer beeps, a message popping up in the corner.

FROM: PHIL HUDSON: we’re at the vans tour starts in exactly five minutes

FROM: PHIL HUDSON: I’m trusting that this works

Nose wrinkling at his boss’s clear annoyance and lack of trust in his technology, Rowan spins in his chair to watch the security cameras as the five women load themselves into the two waiting vans, his boss standing on the steps of the lodge.

“But no longer,” he says, satisfaction dripping from every word. Sitting on his desk, among the mess of candy wrappers and empty soda cans, is a can of shaving cream. Or, what appears to be a can of shaving cream. His own invention; a perfectly pressurized container, made for one thing. To transport dinosaur embryos with no chance of detection, his buyers ready and waiting for it on the mainland.

“You will be a millionaire,” he says, a smile stretched across his mouth in the black mirror of a shut-down computer screen. “And then, the universe will bend to your will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update came a little later than intended; I just got a job and all my training shifts got crammed into a week, plus finals are coming up so my writing time has been cut into pretty drastically.   
> But here's a new chapter! and exciting things are going to start happening very, very soon. 
> 
> Also, because I have sequels planned for this fic that have some pretty major time jumps in the middle, the four of them are only in their late twenties/early thirties for this fic. And while I know that it takes a lot more time to get the kind of recognition that it would require to be chosen to survey a project like this, I'm running with it.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. It's been almost a month since I updated, but in that time ya girl has officially become a college graduate! That's right, I passed my capstones (!) and it means I actually have something resembling free time again (!!) so I (gasp) have time to write. 
> 
> Naturally I wrote about dinosaurs.

 

The windows of the jeep won’t roll down. The doors won’t open either, once the jeep starts plodding down the marked path (she checked), and she figures it’s probably to prevent some small child from launching themselves out of a moving vehicle once the park is actually up and operational. But still, this sucks for several reasons.

One, because it is _hot_. The air is a heavy, warm blanket pressing down, and the jeep’s air conditioning is doing very little to cut through that.

Two, because Holtz and Erin had the misfortune of ending up in the same jeep as Jennifer, and if the windows could roll down, maybe Holtz could stick her head out of it and try and block out the lawyer’s irritated rambling.

But no, Holtz stops to look at _one_ absolutely giant bug, and by the time she got to the jeep, Jennifer and Erin were in one and Abby and Patty were in the other. And yes, pretty as Erin is, Holtz would have gladly abandoned her to the uptight lawyer, but Phil had all but shoved her into the car and given her no choice in the matter.

The bug wasn’t even _that_ cool. Not worth this, at least.

She had claimed the front passenger seat, and so she swings her legs up onto the dashboard, reclining in the seat as much as possible. Erin is in the driver’s seat next to her, and she keeps resting her hands on the wheel out of habit and then jerking them away when the wheel turns without her guiding it. It’s endearing and slightly awkward, and Holtz might have said something about it if the car’s radio hadn’t flickered to life.

“We are now approaching the main gates of the park,” Phil says, his voice a little distorted. “As you can see ahead of you, we spared no expense.”

Music starts filtering through the radio, and both Erin and Holtzmann crane their necks, watching the giant wooden gates approach. Torches flicker and sputter in the wind, and atop the gates in large, red letters is written _Jurassic Park_.

Holtzmann whistles as the gates open, allowing the two cars through. “What are they keeping in here?”

Erin smiles, one corner of her mouth quirking up. “Dinosaurs.”

 _Dinosaurs_.

An automated, tinny voice replaces the music, welcoming them to Jurassic Park. Holtz leans forward, staring out the window at the dark green foliage and thick forests, blocked off from the car’s path by electric fences.

“If you look to the right, you will see a herd of the first dinosaurs on our tour,” the voice says, and Holtzmann plasters herself to the window.

“The Dilophosaurus is one of the earliest carnivores, and we now know the Dilophosaurus is actually poisonous, spitting its venom at its prey.”

Erin leans over the center console, practically in Holtzmann’s lap. They stare into the trees, and Holtz holds her breath, excitement jittering down every single limb in her body.

The tour narration continues. “…causing blindness and eventually paralysis, allowing the carnivore to eat at its leisure. This makes the Dilophosaurus a beautiful, but deadly, addition to Jurassic Park.”

Nothing moves beyond the electric fence. Holtzmann is so close to the car’s window that her nose is smooshed against the glass. The car trundles on.

“Erin?” She asks, hoping the other woman has seen something her eyes have missed.

“I don’t see anything,” Erin says, shaking her head and flopping back into her seat with a frown. In the backseat, even Jennifer sighs with disappointment. Holtz keeps herself pressed to the window for a moment longer, but the cars have passed the enclosure, and she admits defeat.

“Damn.” She slides her sunglasses, previously perched on top of her head, down over her eyes and slumps in her seat. Through the yellow-tinted lenses, the gray sky looks even more ominous.

➹

Phil looks irritated. Not that it’s particularly unusual for him to look irritated; Rowan’s boss’s entire range of emotional expressions seem to range from mildly irritated to _really fucking pissed off_ , which in turn makes Rowan hate him even more. Phil has no idea who Rowan is, what he’s capable of. Rowan should be the one in charge, not this entitled, spoiled brat of a man.

Rowan could make the park great. Rowan knows he’s brilliant, Rowan knows he’s the smartest person in the room, but Phil doesn’t get that.

It’s okay. Soon enough, Phil will understand. Soon enough, Rowan will be gone, millions of dollars in his bank account and the park missing a few dozen of their precious embryos.

Phil is standing in front of the row of screens, watching the security footage from the cars. His face is creased in a frown.

“None of the dinosaurs have appeared on this tour,” he says, not tearing his eyes off the screen. “This isn’t looking great, Rowan.”

“It could be because a storm’s coming.” Dr. Gorin appears at the top of the stairs. She and Rowan make eye contact, their mutual disgust for each other extremely clear. Horrid woman, Dr. Gorin. Rowan’s lip curls and he faces his computer again, and he hears her walk behind him to stand next to Phil.

“We’ve already started evacuating the employees,” Dr. Gorin continues. “This is shaping up to be a hurricane. We should pull the cars back.”

“No!” Phil slams his hand down on the desk, making the cup of pens rattle. “I have sunk years of my life into this park, my father died dreaming of this park. I will not send them away now!”

“Would you rather cost someone their lives than have them sign off on the park?” Dr. Gorin asks, icy cold, and Rowan turns to stare at the tv above his desk, the swirling, multi-colored chart showing the approaching storm. He checks his watch. If he wants to get this done, he has to do it now. The last boat off the island leaves in twenty minutes, and he has to be on it.

It takes only seconds to pull up the necessary page, disguised as a debugging system rather than the kill switch it actually was. He stares at the screen, imaging himself rich, imagining himself famous, imagining himself being taken seriously. Like he deserves.

“You deserve this, Rowan,” he whispers to himself, and clicks.

➹

The cars slowly pull up to the paddock of the Tyrannosaurs Rex, and if the windows of the cars could be rolled down, Holtzmann would absolutely be hanging out the window now to try and catch a glimpse of the dinosaur. Still though, she’s glued to her window, staring through the towering electric fences, looking for any hint of movement. A goat has been tied to a post up against the fence, black-spotted and clearly there to entice the massive predator closer.

It’s going to be a show, Holtzmann is sure. A bloody show, one that’s probably going to be mildly disturbing, but god, she’s loved Tyrannosaurs Rexes since she was a kid. The radio is in the middle of a monologue about the T-Rex, about running speed and height and strength, both Jennifer and Erin are equally glued to the windows.

And then, the rain starts. Sudden and heavy, a thousand tiny bullets hiding the glass top of the car. Okay, Holtz thinks. That explains the heaviness in the air.

The power goes out a few seconds later. The radio dies mid word, and the car’s engine stops. The three woman look at each other, all equally confused. Above their heads, thunder crashes, and all the lights go out.

The car doors unlock with a click, though, so at least that’s something. Holtz can now roll down the windows. Or she could, if it wasn’t raining so hard.

➹

His escape is distinctly less glamorous than he would have hoped. The can of shaving cream and the embryos are stored safely inside his coat, but the rain is running down his face and into his eyes and into his mouth, and the roads are already slick with mud. The jeep skids with every turn, the wheel jerking beneath his hands. Rowan still pushes the car faster.

The radio crackles in his hand. “I just need more time,” he says calmly even as the jeep threatens to spin out of control, tires barely gripping the dangerous roads.

The voice at the other end of the radio crackles. “The storm is getting worse. Just hunker down for now and leave tomorrow. You should be fine at the lodge.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You will not leave this island without me!” Rowan snaps, yanking the wheel to the right. The car’s back wheels leave the road, skidding in the puddles just off it. He’s already left the car once, to open the gate, and he’s still soaked to the bone. And this _peasant_ at the other end of the line doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand that Rowan needs to get off this fucking island.

The voice at the other end of the radio is silent for several long minutes. Finally, their voice comes back. “You have fifteen minutes, Rowan. Even a second later and we’re leaving without you.”

Fifteen minutes. Rowan can get there in five. He throws the jeep into gear, tosses the handheld radio onto the seat beside him, and floors it.

He never makes it to the docks. He takes a corner too fast, too sharply in the rapidly worsening conditions, and his jeep spins out, barreling of the road and down a short incline. That would have been fine, he would have ended up back on the road anyways, but one of the tires gets stuck, and no matter how much he revs the engine he can’t get the jeep to move.

So, he climbs out, the promise of millions of dollars floating in his head, the embryos a lump in his pocket. He unwinds the wire, wraps it around the tree, and there’s rain dripping into his eyes and mud coating his shoes and he can barely take two steps without slipping and falling.

He sees it out of the corner of his eye first. Just a flash of movement, and he whirls around to be faced with trees. But when he turns back around again, there it is. A dinosaur, about three feet tall with two ridges on its head. It tilts its head and churrs, and Rowan is nervous for the first time.

“Stay away,” he tells it, “Go away!” He’s bigger than it, he reasons. And aren’t the dangerous dinosaurs the big ones? His knowledge of what dinosaurs look like are mostly confined to childhood favorites; T-Rex, Triceratops, Stegosaur. But this small dinosaur can’t be more dangerous than _him_. Humans are at the top of the food chain, after all.

So, he throws up his arms and screams at the creature, trying to scare it away.

It happens so fast. A ruff snaps open around the dinosaur’s head, green and red, and its chirps turn into a shriek, showing off rows of sharp teeth. Rowan knows he made a mistake, which is strange because he never makes mistakes. And then, the dinosaur spits at him. The spit is thick and grayish-green, coating his neck and the front of his shirt.

He runs. The hill back up to the jeep has turned into a waterfall, and his feet slide out from under him. He hits the ground hard, sending an ache through his ribs. He doesn’t notice it as he scrambles back to his feet, but the protective can of embryos falls from his pocket, tumbling down the short incline. Not that it matters, anyways.

The car door is still open, and he flings himself into it, pawing at the slime covering his neck. It’s started to burn against his skin, and the rain did nothing to get it off.

He hears another chirp, and his heart falls. He looks up, and there’s the strange little dinosaur, ruff still open. And he swears it’s mocking him.

This time, the dinosaur’s spit covers his face, falling into his mouth with a taste like gasoline, a wildfire of pain burning through his senses. He screams, frantically trying to get the stuff away from his eyes, out of his mouth.

But it’s too late. It’s been too late for him since he first left the jeep.

The dinosaur pounces, shrieking, and his screams fill the air before falling silent.

The only sound that can be heard is the rain.

➹

The five women outside the T-Rex paddock are unaware of what is happening on the other side of the park. They’re also unaware of the panicked Phil and Dr. Gorin back at the lodge as the two watch helplessly as electric fence after electric fence goes down.

Mostly, they’re just concerned about how hot it’s getting.

Holtz climbs up onto the dashboard, tapping at the camera in the corner of the car’s roof. “Hello? Helllloooo,” she sings, tapping three fingers against the lens. “Anybody in there?”

“It’s probably the storm,” Erin says. She’s leaning against the dashboard, her chin resting on her arms, and it’s so adorable that Holtz just might puke. “We’ll most likely just have to wait it out.”

“Great,” comes the sarcastic reply from the backseat. Jennifer is reclined against the door, fanning herself with her pile of papers. Her previously immaculate bun now has strands of hair escaping, sticking to her sweaty forehead.

“We could go outside,” Holtzmann points out. She’d tested the doors and the windows, and whatever had been keeping them locked has since released. Jennifer looks at her, aghast.

“In the _rain_?”

“It sounds kind of nice, actually,” Erin admits, and Holtz whips her head around in surprise. Erin is staring out in the darkness, not looking at Holtz. “Maybe it’d be a little cooler.”

“Also, according to every rom-com ever, very romantic.” Holtz waits until Erin looks at her to raise an eyebrow suggestively. Erin turns a little pink.

They’ve been stuck in this cars for probably about an hour and a half, now, and there’s been little else to do but flirt with Erin. Holtz had tried flirting with Jennifer, as uptight people tend to have better reactions, but Jennifer’s had been a blank, irritated stare. And besides, Erin is rather cute in the nerdy professor way, and is apparently easily flustered by Holtzmann’s particular brand of flirtatious behavior.

Holtz slings her arm over the back of the headrest, twisting in her seat to face Erin. “Tell me.” She mimes holding a camera up in front of Erin’s face. “What brings you to Jurassic Park, Dr. Gilbert?”

Erin smiles a little. “I actually wasn’t sure what I was signing up for, to be honest. But currently my case for tenure is open at Colombia, and to be invited to oversee a project run by InGen would be a massive asset to that case.”

“Ooo, fancy-pants tenure over here,” Holtzmann says, resting her chin on her fist. “They’d be stupid not to give it to you. I mean, after all, you are the best in the business, according to Phil Hudson. And I get the feeling he deeply hated saying that.”

Erin turns pink again, clearly embarrassed by Holtz’s praise. And then Jennifer has to go and rain on the parade.

“You’re actually not the best in the business,” she says coolly, and the two scientists in the front seats twist to look at her. She shrugs. “You were near the middle of the list. But everyone else we talked to refused to come.”

Holtz tries to put a positive spin on that. “Well, we’re average of the best, so that still makes us the best, just not the best of the best.”

Erin doesn’t seem to be listening, though. Her entire body has gone stiff, muscles tense in a way that reminds Holtz of a cat just before it bolts.

“Did you feel that?” She asks, voice tight. “Did you hear that?”

Holtz starts to shake her head, and then stops. Because she does. The low thud, more felt than heard, and her eyes are trained to the four little cups of water in holders on the dashboard. The water trembles, as if a single drop had just been placed right in the middle.

“Where’s the goat?”

Jennifer’s voice has gone strange, and both Erin and Holtz swivel, staring through the rain into the T-Rex paddock. The chain, previously tethering the goat into place is hanging from the pole, and the goat is nowhere to be seen.

And then, a bloody, furry leg lands on top of the sunroof. Jennifer screams, and Erin makes a little choked gasping sound, but Holtz is pinned to her spot, watching as the rain mixes with the fresh blood of the goat’s severed leg, running in crimson streams down the glass. She can’t tear her eyes away.

Jennifer screams again, and Holtz knows why, knows before she even turns.

The fossils don’t do it justice. The Tyrannosaurs Rex is a huge, hulking beast, made of entirely of muscle and sharp, sharp teeth, and it breaks through the electric fence like it’s nothing. The power’s out, Holtzmann realizes in a sickening plunge. It _is_ nothing, it’s just wire and poles. Nothing keeping the power of the beast at bay. It steps from its enclosure, the ground trembling, and Holtzmann thinks she might throw up.

“Abby,” Erin chokes, “Patty.”

The other car is maybe ten yards in front of them, and in the back seat, Holtzmann can see Abby and Patty’s terrified faces, frozen in place.

“Don’t move,” Holtzmann gasps out. “It tracks using movement.”

The T-Rex turns, investigating the cars, and with horrifying slowness it leans down, examining their car. Holtzmann looks directly into one huge, cold amber eye, forcing her muscles to keep still. Erin grabs Holtzmann’s hand behind her back, sinking nails into Holtz’s arm until it hurts, and Holtzmann thinks she may be crying.

Terror is clawing its way up her ribcage, setting in her lungs, and she can’t inhale, can’t breathe, the ancient, _ancient_ eye of the most famous and terrible of dinosaurs staring her directly in the face.

Jennifer can’t take it. Holtz doesn’t even have a chance to say anything, to try and stop her, before the lawyer flings open the door and throws herself into the rain. Erin makes a little whimpering sound, and the T-Rex moves.

Jennifer never made it to the little hut. Running in heels in the rain on a gravel road is not the best or the fastest way to move. The T-Rex takes two steps, and Jennifer screams.

Erin shoves her face into Holtzmann’s shoulder, hiding her eyes from what’s happening, but Holtz can’t tear her eyes away. She watches as Jennifer is there, and then, suddenly, half of her is gone. She’s going to throw up, she knows this, feels the choking sensation in her throat and the churning in her stomach and the door is still open.

She knows she shouldn’t, knows in her rational brain that she shouldn’t move, but her rational brain isn’t in charge right now and she’s climbing into the backseat and she’s shutting the door and oh my god, it makes such a loud sound and the T-Rex is turning and she can’t help it anymore and both she and Erin are screaming.

Erin has climbed into the backseat and they’re practically on top of each other and the T-Rex breaks the fucking sun roof. It comes out all in one piece, and both she and Erin are screaming, this thin piece of glass being the only thing keeping them from the sharp, sharp teeth. The dinosaur snarls, snapping powerful jaws, teeth scraping against the glass. The goat leg slides into the car and that only makes them scream louder, and the dinosaur’s teeth are coated with blood and Holtzmann knows it’s Jennifer’s blood and that makes it so much worse.

She is going to die here. Bloodily and painfully and _why did she ever agree to do this_?

From outside, there’s screaming. And, suddenly the teeth disappear. Erin’s sobbing next to her, dry, hacking sobs, and she’s pushing at Holtz, saying “go, go!” and they’re climbing out of the car. Rain beats down, soaking them in seconds, and Holtzmann sees Abby and Patty, waving emergency flares and screaming. Drawing attention onto them, and away from Holtz and Erin. As soon as the T-Rex’s attention is focused on them, they drop the flares and run. Patty drops to the ground, rolling under their own car, but Abby barely gets a few steps before the dinosaur’s tail comes whipping around and she goes flying.

Erin screams, and Holtz looks over at her in horror. Erin’s eyes are wide and her hands are pressed over her mouth, but it’s too late. The beast has heard them, and is returning its attention back to them. Pressing a firm hand into the small of Erin’s back Holtzmann forces her to the ground, and they crawl under the car, coating themselves in a layer of mud. From under the car they can’t see anything but Patty under her own car and the dinosaur’s huge feet coming closer. They stop beside the car, and Holtzmann closes her eyes.

The car rocks above them, and a single tear squeezes from Holtzmann’s eye and drips down her cheek. Erin’s hand is at Holtzmann’s elbow and she’s pulling her, pulling her out from under the car. The car rocks again, the force of the T-Rex’s nudge turning it in the mud, and Holtz and Erin both dive to the side to prevent themselves from being crushed against the cement base of the fence.

The _fence_.

Holtz peers over the short wall, and they’re in the worst possible place to do this, the place where the enclosure dips down into a tiny valley, the ground at least thirty feet away from them. But there are pieces of fence hanging down, and it’s a horrible idea, and absolutely horrible one, but if they stay here they are going to be eaten.

Erin knows what Holtz is thinking, and she shakes her head frantically, but the car jolts again, the dinosaur getting impatient.

Their decision is made for them. The T-Rex, clearly angered by the lack of an easy meal, shoves at the car, picks it and smashes it back to the ground. Holtzmann and Erin fling themselves out of the way to avoid getting crushed, and their movement alerts the dinosaur to their presence.

Holtzmann is sure that the very last thing she will ever see is the dinosaur’s teeth closing around her, but Erin suddenly has an arm wrapped around her and is dragging her over the base of the fence and for a moment they’re falling.

And then they hit the wall with a thud that forces all the breath from Holtz’s body. Erin groans in pain, and they slip down, her one-handed grip on the slick wire rapidly losing. Holtz grabs it with her both hands and Erin lets go of her to wrap her other hand around the wire.

Holtzmann jolts down a couple of yards, her shoulders and her hands screaming in pain, until she manages to brace her feet against the wall. Slowly, both she and Erin inch their way down, hand over hand, but then the T-Rex roars above them, and its massive head pokes over the wall, and their careful climb turns more into a controlled fall.

Holtzmann jumps the last six feet or so, her knees and ankles screaming at the impact, Erin coming down a few seconds behind her. Above them, the car teeters, halfway over the wall, and the T-Rex roars again.

The car falls, and Erin drags Holtzmann to the ground. The car hits a few feet in front of them, the ground vibrating under their feet from the impact. Then Erin is tugging Holtz to her feet.

“Go!” She shrieks in Holtzmann’s ear, and for the first time, Holtz allows her fight or flight instinct to kick in, and the two of them _run_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw Fallen Kingdom last night, and as you may know, I will fight and die for these movies, so it's needless to say that I loved it. It was super different in style from the other movies, but it's still damn enjoyable. It's currently being ripped apart by critics apparently, but I don't give one shit about that because I loved the movie. How am I supposed to wait three years for the next one is the real question.
> 
> Also, am I now head over heels in love with Dr. Zia Rodriguez? Yes.


End file.
